Holy Everdeen Matrimony
by WizMonCruWil
Summary: I wanted to write a story where Mrs. Everdeen remarries to Mr. Mellark, and her daughters also find love. Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1: 74th Reaping

**Chapter 1: 74th Reaping **

I come home earlier than usual from my hunting and trading in the Hob. I have to, in order to get to the Square on time. Because today is the day of the Reaping for the 74th Annual Hunger Games. Mandatory attendance, to see who of the district's children will be selected for a cold, cruel death as they fight to survive in a wild arena.

When I arrive at the ramshackle home I share in the Seam with my mother and sister, I see that they both are dressed and ready. I cross to my little Primrose, beaming. Prim - the one person I am certain I love.

"Oh! Look at you! You look beautiful! Better tuck in that tail, Little Duck," as I tuck in the back of her blouse.

My mother's voice - hoarse from lack of use - cuts through this rare moment of happiness. "I laid something out for you too."

I pause for a beat, not even turning my head to look at her. Five years ago, when Daddy died in a mine explosion, Mother turned into herself in grief, leaving her two daughters to fend for themselves; I have mostly raised Prim. It is something I don't think I will ever forgive her for. "OK," I say simply, forcing a weak smile onto my face for Prim's sake.

I draw a bath in our tin tub and bathe myself. When I see the frock that Mother laid out for me, I frown in slight disapproval. But it is the nicest article of clothing I own - a hand-me-down from my mother's youth as a Merchant, so I reluctantly put it on anyway. I even allow Mother to do one of the few maternal things she still does, which is braiding my brown hair in front of our cracked, dirty mirror. She smiles softly, but the joy does not reach her dead eyes. "Now you look beautiful too."

"I wish I looked like you," an envious Primrose grumbles from the settee. With her Merchant blond hair in pigtails, she must still feel she looks like a baby. I quickly set her mind at ease when I tell her, "Oh, no! I wish I looked like you, Little Duck!" And I mean it. With her Merchant features, Prim will be sought after far and wide for a Toasting, when she comes of age.

We leave our simple abode and cross the Seam into the Merchant section of District 12, known as "Town" by most folk. Joining the throng of children between the ages of 12 and 18 and their parents, we fall into step beside the Hawthorne family. They are a prominent Seam brood with whom we Everdeens are often mistaken as cousins. But then again, all Seam folks are related in one way or another. Gale Hawthorne, the eldest of his four siblings and my tall hunting partner who now tugs at my braid affectionately, could certainly pass as family. We have the same Seam-grey eyes. Our fathers worked together in the mines, perished in the same accident. I think Mother and Gale's mom, Hazelle, are hoping he and I will marry one day. They are to be sorely disappointed. Gale and I have only ever been friends. And besides, after seeing what love and marriage did to my mother, I never want to marry or have kids. For babies just grow up to be tossed to the arenas.

Prim and I check in for the Reaping just before 10 AM, the appointed time for the ceremony, in front of the Justice Building. A pinprick of blood, placed on a scanner, is all that is needed to confirm our identity. This being her first eligible year, Primrose is a little squeamish about the needles, so I have to talk her down. Though I can't say I blame her. I hated blood draws and shots too, when I was her age.

I take my place in the 16-year-old girls pen. Ahead of me and to my right, I can see Gale in the 18-year-old boys section. Prim will be standing with the fresh blood deep in the back. Effie Trinket, our district escort takes the stage, during a propaganda video with words I know by heart. I tune this part out, and only half-listen to the Reading of the Names. The names of Past District 12 Victors. It's a pretty short list, as in 74 years, we have had exactly two. Only one is still alive: Haymitch Abernathy, a paunchy middle-aged man who won the 50th Hunger Games at my age. When his exalted name is called, the sad sack of shit stands up and tries to give Trinket a hug, before tumbling head-first off the stage. I grimace as Peacekeepers are called in to haul his unconscious body away.

Effie mercifully retakes the microphone to finally select this year's two tributes. As always, ladies first. "Nata Barrett!"

A Merchant girl my age takes the stage trepidatiously. No one shows any emotion of sympathy, and a few Seamers even exchange snickers. Nata Barrett is the Merchant daughter of the confectioner in Town. When a Merchant child is called for death, none of the Seamers mourn. There has been class animosity between the two groups for decades. When my mother broke all tradition and ran off the marry my Seam father, she was ostracized by her former neighbors. Yes, it is special, sick cause for celebration when a Merchant's child is Reaped. No Merchant from 12 has ever won the Games; both of our Victors - Haymitch and his long-dead female mentor - hailed from the Seam. For only the Seam kids know true hunger.

"Wonderful!" Effie chirps. "And now for the boys!" She plucks a slip of paper from the boys' Reaping Bowl and leaves no time before calling out, "Gale Hawthorne!"

My mouth drops open in horror as Gale resolutely takes the stage. His last year. His very last year of eligibility and he is picked! Then again, Gale told me on our hunt last week that his name was in the Bowl 42 times, on account of taking out tesserae. The odds were not in his favor, and he told me so.

At the edge of the pen, my eyes catch Hazelle Hawthorne staggering against my mother, who looks to be trying to console and keep her fellow mom from going into a dead faint. If Gale dies, who will take over as man of the house? Vick is too young; Posy is just a baby. I feel for Hazelle that she has been forced to go through this not once, but twice. Last year, Gale's brother Rory was Reaped his very first year; he was playmates with my sister Primrose. How will the Hawthornes feed themselves, if Gale does not come back alive?

I don't have time to posit an answer, as Gale and Nata are led into the Justice Building, and I leap ahead in a mad dash to the doors...

* * *

Most years, precious few visit our tributes, as they are seen as good as dead. Gale's popularity as a heroic hunter in the Seam ensures that the line to see him off is extending out the door, flummoxing the Peacekeepers who are not used to dealing with such crowd control. I got in line first, but Mother and Primrose and I let the Hawthornes go ahead of us. It is only right that the family gets first priority in bidding farewell to their loved one.

When my family and I enter, I leave Gale with a long hug and some parting advice. "Get to a bow. And if they don't give you a bow, then you make one." He nods determinedly, and for the first time, I dare to hope that District 12 might finally get another winner.

My hopes are dashed quickly, though. The very first day of the Games, the vicious Career boy from District 2 tackles my hunting partner and bludgeons him to death with a scythe. 10 other tributes die with Gale in that horrific Bloodbath.


	2. Chapter 2: 75th Reaping

**Chapter 2: 75th Reaping**

I set out our evening meal along our meager coffee table, as Mother sets up the battered old TV. It is springtime, the chill of winter just beginning to take flight. Tonight is mandatory programming, to find out the special twist for the 75th Annual Hunger Games, or 3rd Quarter Quell. Every quarter-century, a special Games, called a Quarter Quell, has been held to commemorate the defeat of the rebels at the hands of the Capitol. I have never been alive for one, and I only know about it from school. A lesson is devoted to the 2nd Quarter Quell, for that is the year our very own Haymitch Abernathy won the Crown. One semester, our only living Victor was even invited to give a presentation. Haymitch arrived stumbling drunk, and threw up halfway through his lecture. The boys thought it was funny. I did not.

Mother jiggles the antenna so that the screen clears and we see President Snow begin by reciting the twists of the past two Quells. "On the 25th anniversary, as a reminder that it was the district's choice to initiate violence, each district was made to hold a special election and vote on the tributes who would represent it."

I wonder what that must have been like. Picking the kids who had to go. It is worse, I think, to be turned over by your neighbors than by the mere whims of the Reaping Bowl. No doubt District 12 saw it as an opportunity to get rid of some dead weight; two Seam kids from the Community Home almost certainly went that year.

"On the 50th anniversary, as a reminder that two rebels died for every Capitol citizen, the districts had to send twice as many tributes."

I imagine having to face a field of 47 instead of 23. But old Haymitch Abernathy did, and somehow came home alive. Throughout the year, the editions of past Games have sometimes been re-aired. To the best of my knowledge, Haymitch Game's never has been rebroadcast. I wonder why...?

The President is now procuring a slip of paper from an envelope. "On the 75th anniversary, as a reminder that the rebels tore apart whole families in the war, the tributes Reaped are to be related, by either blood or marriage. To ensure that this twist is fulfilled, the usual age restrictions shall be temporarily suspended."

Primrose gasps in horror, and Mother buries her face in her hands. What an awful twist. At first, I think we Everdeen girls are in the clear: even if one of us is Reaped, Daddy is dead; there is no male relative who can be conscripted into going in with us.

Then, I remember: Mother's Merchant relatives. They have been estranged since before Prim and I were born. I have never spoken to them. All I know is that Mother's brother - my uncle - runs the Apothecary in Town. He has a wife, and three children; my cousins. One of whom is a boy. If Mother, Prim or I were Reaped, my uncle or cousin would automatically be sentenced to death with us. And once in the arena... they would feel restraint or qualms in killing us. As far as they are concerned, we are already dead to them.

* * *

The day of the Reaping dawns hot and sultry. There are no pens roping off age this time; instead, we are grouped by families. Mother, Prim and I are stuffed in with the five Merchant Everdeens; not one of them glances at us. Effie Trinket takes the stage, but lacks her usual verve. Poor gal. I wonder if this is her first time officiating a Quell Reaping. We watch the video and she reads our two Victor's names with no enthusiasm. I am actually disappointed when Haymitch chooses to sit still. Something needs to cut this tension.

"Ladies first!" Effie trills. I barely have time shut my eyes before a name is called out: "Paula Mellark!"

Everyone in the Everdeen pen deflates in relief. We are free. Safe for another year. For the boy tribute will have to come from the Mellark bloodline. And the Mellarks - a family of Bakers - have three strapping young men to choose from, along with their father, who looks to be my mother's age. We all watch as the matriarch takes the stage, looking absolutely horrified. I feel no sympathy for her. Paula Mellark is known as a Witch of a woman, and has even been rumored to beat her own sons. Her sons who will be joining her in the arena as Effie calls out from a now meticulously cleaner bowl -

"Peeta Mellark!"

This time, I actually want to cry at the unfairness of it all. Peeta Mellark! Not him! But it is, as a boy my age with ashy blonde hair and eyes as blue as a summer sky joins his mother at the podium. Peeta and I were in the same year in Upper School, though we never spoke at all. We only interacted once, and it was years ago: not long after my father died, we were starving, and while passing by the bakery one night, Peeta Mellark threw burnt bread to me in a driving rain. I never did thank him. Now I wish I had as mother and son are forced to shake hands and are escorted into the Justice Building. The crowd begins to disperse back to their homes. Our Merchant Everdeen relatives leave without saying a single solitary word to their own kin. Mother, however, strides with unusual vigor and purpose towards the Baker and his two older sons. Curious, Prim and I follow. From a ways back, we see Mother wrap the Baker in a hug. "I'm so sorry, Steffan," she murmurs quietly to him.

The Baker sends her a tired smile. "Thank you, Lillian." Then he leaves to say goodbye to his wife and youngest son, both of whom are as good as dead. He will mourn when the time comes - for his son, certainly. His wife I am less sure about. The few times I observed them together, neither one of them seemed happy. Then again, most Merchant marriages are arranged, unhappy and loveless. The Baker might see his impending widowerhood as a saving grace. Unless, of course, the Witch wins. She certainly has a ruthless spirt about her that will serve her well in the arena.

But that possibility is quickly quashed when the tributes emerge in an arena with a Cornucopia surrounded by water. Very few people in District 12 know how to swim. But Peeta Mellark does. Leaping onto a rocky spoke, and then diving into the watery wedge holding two tributes next to it, he forces his mother off the pedestal footplate, and follows her into the water. There, he proceeds to drown her, ensuring she will not come back alive. She must have been really horrible to him. Then, Peeta swims to shore, actually making it to the beach. But the swim has exhausted him, enough so that the man from District 2 is able to overpower the Baker's son and stab him to death. 13 total tributes die in that Bloodbath.

I don't know why, but I go to bed that night weeping.


	3. Chapter 3: Mrs The Baker

**Chapter 3: Mrs. The Baker**

**Lillian's POV**

I enter the Bakery through the back loading dock door. I understand that this is where Katniss makes a lot of her trades. "Steffan?" I call for the widowed Baker and my childhood friend.

I expect for either of his two surviving sons, Leven or Rye, to answer; they are probably working the front. But soon I hear a heavy tread up the stairs, and the Baker appears, wiping his hands on a tea towel.

"Hello, Lillian!" He beams. I smile shyly back. On the whole, Steffan seems to be slowly but surely on the mend, in the close to a year since Peeta and Paula's deaths.

"I was just looking for Katniss," I tell him.

"Oh, she's already been by with her trades," Steffan says to me. He is still gazing at me. "You have... a new dress," he observes.

I feel the blush creep up onto my neck. "It is... one I wear most Sunday mornings, Steffan."

He chuckles. "Ah. I am foolish. Forgive my old eyes."

I peer at him. "No. Your eyes appear very... young."

We share a charged look, the silence stretching out between us. After several moments, Steffan seems to decide something, crossing to me and pulling me close, his one arm hanging loosely about my waist. I feel my palms press into his chest for purchase and I take in breath sharply. "Steffan..." I whisper.

"And you appear young and beautiful... everywhere," he murmurs. I cannot mistake the look in his brilliant blue eyes: love and lust. Before I can say a word, before my heavily lidded eyes have drooped shut all the way, Steffan braces me against the wall and kisses me full on the lips.

I have not kissed a man in close to seven years. Not since the death of my husband. But I soon find my mouth parting open, granting Steffan's tongue passage. In another moment, my arms drape languidly about his neck and I hang limp in his arms. I let out a purr of pleasure. "Mmmmmm..."

Steffan's strong, calloused palms dip lower, below my waist. I feel the digits audaciously grope and caress the curvy flesh of my rear. Aroused and feeling bolder and more alive than I have in years, I sweep my one leg to Steffan's waist, hooking it about his torso. He groans, and grinds into me. I dig my heels into his buttocks, and gallingly push my swelling breasts up against his toned chest. I feel his free hand cup the mound of flesh, tweaking my pebbling nipple. "Mmmm... yes, more, please..." I beg, moan into his mouth.

My skirts are pushed up over my hips. My own hands frantically work to free the Baker from his clothed cell. I cup his straining erection through his pants and desperately stroke it, readying him for me. We may be adults, beyond the prime of our lives, but we have not forgotten how to make love.

Soon, I let out a sharp gasp, and let my head fall back as Steffan's lips fiercely attack my neck. Even as he takes me and my walls seal around him. We begin to rock and undulate incessantly, our sweaty bodies slapping together faster and faster.

"Mmmmm... Ummmmm... Uhhhhh... Guhhhhhh! HUHHHHHH!" My moans are becoming more pathetic and louder by the minute. Steffan growls and thrusts into me faster. I send my cries into his shoulder until at last, with a final and violent slam, Steffan pours all he has into me.

"MMMHMMMM!" I come all around him moments later with a vicious squeal. We lean back and gaze into each other's eyes, amazed and exhilarated by what we have just done. Steffan and I embrace and kiss one last time before he pulls out, sets me down. We both hurriedly redress, both pink in the face. Not knowing what I can possibly say to the man, I flee for home and my girls.

* * *

**Katniss's POV**

I watch as the pair of tributes shakes hands and are led into the Justice Building for their participation in the 76th Hunger Games. And just like that, I am free of the cruel Reaping forever. I rush out of the 18-year-old girls' holding pen to find my 14-year-old sister, ignoring how many boys my age are dropping to their knees all around me, proposing to their sweethearts. It is a common tradition for 18-year-olds just free of the Reaping to embark on marriage, as they can finally get going with life out from under the shadow of death. Marriage is something I will never embark on though, I have already promised myself.

I still have not found Primrose in the throng. But I do find Mother. Who, I now see as I stop short in abject astonishment, is watching in disbelief as the Baker gets down on one knee and proposes to her.

From afar, I watch as my mother actually accepts the ring and says Yes, leaps into the Baker's arms as both of them start kissing madly. My mouth has fallen all the way open, so that flies could zoom in and out with relative comfort.

"Katniss, what are you... Oh my God! Is that... Mother?! And the Baker?!" Now at my side, Primrose sounds just as stupefied as I must look and feel.

"Primrose: let's go home," I say simply. And taking her hand, we flounce out of the Square. Mother will catch up with us, no doubt ready with an explanation. I will surely need one. One thing is for certain: a wedding is in our future. We are getting a stepfather, a stepfamily.

* * *

When Mother sits both of her girls down and tells us that she and the Baker are to be wed, Primrose and I pretend to be stunned at the news. As if we didn't see our mother openly kissing a man who is not our father in the public square. The ceremony will occur in a matter of days - first the singing of the marriage license papers at the Justice Building, followed by the customary Toasting at the Bakery, to where we will all soon be moving.

I am flummoxed. Maybe even a little livid. I never expected Mother to marry again. It was not something I generally wanted, either, as I hold Daddy's memory so close to my heart. But Mother appears so happy - happier than I have seen her in years - I do not think I can voice my misgivings without sounding like an ungrateful wretch. Mother endured enough objections - disownment, even - when she married my father.

"I will wear this to the Justice Building," Mother giddily tells us as she pulls out one of her old Merchant dresses - burgundy in color. "And for the Toasting..." She opens her armoire "... the family wedding dress."

Primrose and I gawk. It is blinding white, made of the finest silk. Mother smiles amusingly at our shock. "It is our most precious family heirloom," she tells us proudly. "Someday, you both will wear it after me." I want to correct her and say that only Primrose will wear it after her, but I hold my tongue.

"How did you inherit it?" Primrose asks in admiration.

Mother grins almost sheepishly, but maybe also a little smugly. "I stole it."

I gape. "You _stole_ it?!"

Mother bristles a little. "When your father and I eloped. It was in the family, and I knew that your grandparents would never give it to me to use in marriage to a Seam miner, so I took it with me when I fled Town."

After a moment, I send Mother a very weak smile. "That's... wonderful, Mother."

That night, as we lie together in bed, Primrose calls me out on my behavior. "I know what you're feeling. But Mother deserves this. And the Baker does too. He had it worse than Mother and Daddy ever did, slaving away in a loveless marriage to that... witch. He and Mother can both be happy again."

I roll over to face her. "I hope I am doing the right thing. Giving my blessing."

"You are," Prim assures me eagerly. "I'm proud of you. It means a lot to Mother."

I stroke her blonde hair affectionately. "When did you become so wise, Little Duck?"

She smirks. "Quack."

* * *

A few days later, Primrose and I attend to Mother, helping her dress in her burgundy frock. We then process over to the Justice Building and enter the District Clerk's office. Mr. Mellark, the Baker, and his two sons (our stepbrothers-to-be) are waiting for us. Mother approaches the judge. "Your Honor, I would like to take this man as my husband, if you please."

Mother and The Baker each sign the marriage license. There will be no need to assign them a house, as is the tradition for most newlywed couples; we Everdeen girls will all be moving into the Bakery in the coming weeks. They exchange rings and vows. Mother's are particularly moving, even I have to admit:

"Very few people are so fortunate as to love two men in one lifetime. I am just sorry it took so long for us. I love you." Gazing at him, she takes a deep breath and pronounces, "I love my husband."

"I now pronounce this couple man and wife. You may kiss the bride," the judge orders. The Baker actually picks Mother up and spins her around. Setting her down, the couple embrace and share a long kiss...

* * *

... And when they break the kiss at last, it seems, Mother is adorned in her wedding dress. And we are all standing witness by the hearth in the back of the Bakery. Naan, the Mellark family dog, gets in the middle of everything, jumping up to lick Mother as she blushes happily. Primrose, Leven and Rye and I dutifully applaud; I then move forward to wipe an errant toast crumb off of Mother's cheek.

We begin transferring our lives from the Seam to live in the Bakery and Town immediately thereafter.


	4. Chapter 4: A Peacekeeper's Bride

**Chapter 4: A Peacekeeper's Bride**

I am woken up around first light, some months later, to incessant moans and groans coming from Mother's bedroom down the hall.

"Oh no..."

"Oh yessss..."

"Oh nooooo..." Mother seems to be almost wailing.

"Oh yessss..."

"Uhhhh... Steffan..."

Wincing at the knowledge that my mother and stepfather are indeed making love, I rise quietly from the bed I share with Primrose and dress into my hunting gear. Stealing out into the hall and down the stairs, I can hear Rye and Leven working the ovens in the basement, prepping the day's bread. I slip out the back door and onto the loading dock and scurry down the alley that soon turns into the Main Street. Shouldering my game bag, I begin my hike out of Town and up through the Seam towards the district fence and the woods beyond. The sky is overcast, with thunder rumbling overhead.

I am just reaching the border between Town and Seam when I hear a voice calling my name. "Katniss! Katniss Everdeen!"

I turn to see a head of red hair dressed in white-plated armor hurrying to catch up with me. "Peacekeeper Freeman. What a surprise."

Darius Freeman is the Deputy Head Peacekeeper here in District 12, second only to Cray. At 20 years old, he is handsome, with red hair that flows down to his shoulders, a toned chest and chiseled jaw and piercing sea-green eyes. His is a kind face, which should seem almost oxymoronic for a Peacekeeper. Nevertheless, I have enjoyed his company whenever I trade in the Hob.

Darius slows out of his jog, and smiles at me. "Where are you heading this fine morning?"

With any other Peacekeeper, I would be guarded, but I answer Darius honestly. "The woods. Hunting." It has always been illegal to hunt in Panem, but Cray is so laxadaisical with the rules - and so much of his force is one the take for my game - that I have always felt it was worth the risk. Especially to feed my family. Ever since my mother married The Baker, we have been better off, but I still feel the need to be out in the greenery. To be free, if only for an hour or two.

Darius grins. "Stop by the Hob with your kills later, will you? I'll pay you with a kiss for your trouble." He gives the single braid running down my back a flick. That's the other thing: Darius has always been known in these parts to be somewhat of a flirt. He has been asking to kiss me for years, and I have always said No. Laughing, I push him away.

"I'll think about it."

Suddenly, there is a plasmic shriek, and Darius and I look just in time to see lightning touch the Earth, just beyond the fence. "Come on!" Darius takes my hand, and I have no choice but to let him pull me along.

We cross the Seam and reach the fence in about five minutes going at a trot. Darius even follows me under the fence. There, in the middle of a sandy stretch just before you hit the Meadow, is a smoldering crater. Tentatively, Darius and I approach it.

"Doesn't look it hit anything. Not of value anyway. I'll send Peacekeepers up here to put out the blaze. We don't want the woods to catch afire. Still, I'll have to file a report," Darius observes.

Crouching down, I peer closer. "The sand... it looks like it's... turned into glass."

Darius frowns. "I don't like glass," he pronounces. I stand and regard him curiously. "It's smooth and deceiving... and when it breaks, the shards get everywhere. Not like the people here. Here, everyone's raw... and real." Without thinking, he lays a gentle touch to my arm. Startled, I turn to peer at him, and am caught off-guard by his easy smile. He has such a nice smile...

Without even noticing, I feel Darius drawing closer. I do not move away, holding his eyes almost challengingly. Dipping his head, Darius leans in until his mouth covers my own in a passionate kiss. I let out a tiny gasp just before our mouths join, but after that, I forget everything. I close my eyes, allowing the kiss to deepen.

At first, I don't resist, but then after a moment or two of openly kissing, I remember myself and I pull away, wrenching myself free of Darius's lips. "No!" I get out, a little more sharply than I meant to. "I shouldn't have done that."

Darius looks confused and - to my slight distress - a little hurt. "I'm sorry..." his voice trails off.

* * *

A few weeks later, Mother and Steffan help me to effectively put Darius's stolen kiss out of my mind.

It is with great shock, one night at dinner, that our parents set us down and announce that they are expecting a baby. Prim is euphoric, Rye and Leven genuinely accepting. Though I too am happy, I am also a little concerned. Mother is now 42 years old, 43 by the time the baby comes. Her pregnancy and labor will be a far cry from what it was when she had me, at 24, and Primrose when she was 28. Still, I put on a weak smile for Mother and her adoring husband.

Steffan thinks our family news should call for a celebration. A few nights later, he invites most of Town over to the Bakery for a party. When Mother crossed back over class lines and married again, the reaction of the Merchant sector was a mixed bag - some people were genuinely happy to see Mother return to the fold of her youth; others still regard her as Seam. Dishonor her for her perceived betrayal in consummating her first marriage. But Steffan invites only the best, most well-meaning people to celebrate his and Mother's impending child. Even a few liked Peacekeepers show up.

One of them is Darius.

When he asks me to dance with him, I don't refuse. And later in the night, when he asks to speak with me in private, I also warily agree. As he leads me out onto the back loading dock, I wonder if he will kiss me again. And I am unsure if I want him to.

In the privacy of the alley, by the light of the loading dock's single lamp, Darius turns to me and quietly pulls out a ring. He holds it out to me as I gape in amazement. He must have saved up weeks of his pension to buy the golden band. I shake my head in wonder. "This is the last thing I expected."

"Love is never expected," Darius tells me kindly, bearing a hopeful smile. "Katniss Everdeen, will you marry me?"

I peer at him curiously, stunned and also a little amused. As a general rule, Peacekeepers are not allowed to marry until after their Tour of Duty is over. As the Head Peacekeeper and the Deputy Head Peacekeeper, Cray and Darius are the only exceptions, and I am sure Cray rigged that to ensure that he could run a harem out of his quarters in relative comfort, without falling into danger with the law.

I don't answer for a long time as I think it all over, weighing all the Pros and Cons in my head. Marrying a Peacekeeper, even a Deputy Head like Darius, is exactly the kind of economic security that my family needs, that Mother would seek for me. For a poor young Seam woman like me, there are only a few options for advancing above my station. One would have been to become a Victor of the Hunger Games (a feat that District 12 has only accomplished twice in the last 76 years, and only once by a woman). More than this, I would be the wife of a Capitol official, guaranteeing for me a level of safety that the rest of the district could only dream of. There would be no hassle in being assigned a house, as all couples must go through when getting married at the Justice Building.

However, every Pro has a Con to go with it. If what I have seen of the accommodations in the Barracks is any indication, I highly doubt that his officer's stipend could sustain two people, especially a husband and a wife. Besides, my trades are mostly conducted through barter; rarely am I paid coins for my kills, so I would not add to Darius's income in any meaningful way. Yes, marriage to a Peacekeeper would grant me safety, but what kind of safety is left out of my control. On the one hand, it could mean my ability to conduct my illegal hunts and trading with absolutely no fear of repercussions. On the other hand, a status as a Peacekeeper's spouse could add an extra level of scrutiny that would make such hunts all but impossible.

Then there is the issue of the Barracks. Darius may have his own house, but the Peacekeepers still practice communal living. Theirs is a militarized lifestyle with relatively few opportunities for romance or sex. Marriage for them is forbidden by higher-ups in the ranks, so most cadets abstain from marriage in favor of illegitimate couplings that more often than not result in bastard children without fathers. To have a woman in their midst, even if I would be the spoken-for wife of one of their own, would not prevent Darius's comrades from trying to have their own way with me. I may be able to one day submit to being a wife, but I would be a faithful wife. Not a trophy wife and definitely not a sex toy to be passed around or otherwise change hands. Ultimately, I would be in close proximity as a form of temptation for other men, and have little privacy outside of Darius's one abode. Perhaps not even that.

Then there are the Unknowns. Would Darius expect me to sleep with him? Surely yes; it's what spouses do. And the proposition of sex has never excited me before. Besides, sex - especially the unprotected kind - often leads to babies. Babies who grow into children who are Reaped for arenas to die. Would Darius want children? He would be free to pursue fatherhood with me – Peacekeepers must be celibate, not abstinent. I have never wanted children or to become a mother, for fear of losing them to the Reaping. What if Darius were reassigned to another district? If I were his wife, I would feel compelled to go with him to wherever a new commission might take him, thus leaving behind my homeland and my family. Even then, would I be allowed to accompany my husband to a new assignment? I don't know. What other difficulties would come from marrying a foreigner? For Darius is not from District 12, and our people take great pride in marrying one of our own kind, right down to class. Even marriages just between Merchant and Seam - like my parents' - are rare and frowned upon. Would I be seen even more differently in taking a husband who hails from one of the Career districts?

As I am thinking all this, I have been absent-mindedly running my fingers through Darius's hair, sizing him up. I gaze into his deep sea-green eyes. Finally, I give him a hopeful smile.

"Yes, I will," I whisper.

Beaming, Darius takes me in his arms. I don't fight it, winding my arms about his neck as for the second time, our lips meet in a searing kiss.

Our lips have barely touched before we hear a plasmic roar. My hair stands on end as lightning unexpectedly strikes a Merchant's cart in one corner of the alley, setting it on fire. It turns out to be a cart full of fireworks, for the upcoming Fall Festival - fireworks which are now set off and sent whizzing through the alley, around Darius and me. Startled, Darius and I clutch each other closer and part our mouths wide for plundering tongues, deepening the kiss. And as Darius and I embrace and kiss, these fireworks are sent whizzing and exploding into the nighttime sky above District 12.

Darius and I finally break the kiss at last, dreamily. He picks me up and spins me around, as I laugh happily...

* * *

... And when he sets me down, it seems, Darius and I are suddenly standing before the District clerk and judge - I in my blue Reaping dress, and he in his officer's uniform. Beaming, Darius and I pull each other close and kiss heatedly when the judge declares us husband and wife. Later, we return to the Bakery to conduct our Toasting. By the light of the fire, I allow my husband to seal our marriage once again with a kiss, licking away the bread crumbs on my lips.

I move out of the Bakery and into Darius's quarters in the Peacekeeper Barracks the very next day.


	5. Chapter 5: The Miner Foreman's Wife

**Chapter 5: The Miner Foreman's Wife**

Several months after Darius and I get married, Mother gives birth to a darling baby girl. She and my stepfather name her Belle. I am genuinely happy for them, and dote on my baby sister. This is especially helpful as Rye and Leven enjoy teasing her.

The years pass, and my sister Primrose blossoms into a beautiful young woman. She survives one Reaping after the next, and before I know it turns 17. A few months after her birthday, I am taking a break from the lunch rush in the Bakery by playing with toddler Belle. The bell tingles as Primrose flounces in, just home from school. She looks... flabbergasted. And also a little flustered.

"I think I'm dating Thom Borden," she announces to no one in particular. I drop the rattle I have been holding out to Belle.

"What?" I gawp. Thom Borden comes from a prominent family of Seam miners. Generations of them have risen to the coveted position of Miner Foreman here in 12. Thom Borden currently holds the post, and at 21 years old, is the youngest Foreman ever.

Prim flushes crimson as she proceeds to tell me her story. "We've taken to sharing drinks in the Hob some afternoons, after his shift."

I frown at her disapprovingly. "Drinks? Primrose, you know the legal drinking age is 18!"

She bristles. "I know. I usually just have lemonade. Anyway, today Thom got off his shift early and met me out in the schoolyard, and he asked to walk me home. He dropped me off just by the Barrett's place and right as I was saying goodbye... he kissed me!" A grin is trying to fight its way onto her face.

I frown deeper, prepared to tear Thom Borden limb from limb as I distractedly hand the rattle to Belle. "Did you kiss him back?"

Prim's blush deepens. "Yes."

"Did he ask to kiss you first?" I'll personally shoot him through with my bow if...

"Well... no, but..."

"He should have asked your permission!" I blast out.

"I kissed him back, didn't I? Mama taught us the importance of consent! And anyway, you're one to talk - the first time you and Darius kissed, he never asked you either!"

I turn beet red as I think back to the first kiss I shared with my husband, who is currently out patrolling Victor's Village. After three years of marriage, Darius can still make me go weak at the knees. "You're right," I concede.

Prim cocks an eyebrow. "And you didn't even kiss him back until he proposed, the night Mama and Steffan told everybody they were expecting."

This time, I scowl. "You're right," I concede the point again. There is a moment of silence as I weigh it all over. "Do you love him?"

Prim tellingly refuses to meet my gaze. "I... Yeah."

"And he loves you?"

"With the way he kisses? Dear God, yes!"

I hold up a hand, sufficiently grossed out. "I don't wanna know. Just tell him that if he wants to buy a ring, he should wait until after your last Reaping to ask the question. And he should come to ask Mama for her permission first."

Prim pouts at the terms, but beyond that does not put up much of a fight. "Fine." Donning an apron, she flounces down the stairs towards the ovens. "I'm gonna go check on the cheese buns."

* * *

The following summer, Prim survives her last Reaping. Thom Borden is among the other men there to propose to their sweethearts, as he drops to one knee with a ring and asks for my sister's hand in marriage. Prim ecstatically says Yes. As Mother and I did before her, Primrose wears a nice frock to the Justice Building, where she and Thom are assigned a house just a few miles from the mines. We hold their Toasting there, after Mother and I adorn Primrose in the family wedding dress - our most precious heirloom. At their new house, Thom and Primrose Toast a bit of bread and share. Then, pulling her into his arms, Thom kisses my sister passionately, making her officially a married woman.

I never thought any of us Everdeen girls would ever get married. I certainly never imagined I would. But we all have never husbands who love us, and are secure in our lives. In District 12, we may starve to death in safety, but we will do so content in the bonds of holy matrimony.


End file.
